


Netflix and Chill

by stilesstilinskixeveryone



Series: Steter Week 2018 [1]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Broken Bones, Comfort, Creature Stiles Stilinski, Fluff, Fox Stiles, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mentions of Masturbation, Pre-Slash, Sheriff Stilinski's Name is John, Steter Week, Steter Week 2018, Werecreature Stiles, but not really? it doesn't hurt that much so, mentions of Stiles in a red riding hood outfit, very vague though
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-22
Updated: 2018-07-22
Packaged: 2019-06-14 09:52:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,662
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15386202
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stilesstilinskixeveryone/pseuds/stilesstilinskixeveryone
Summary: Stiles just needed to run for a little bit, to escape. Turns out there's a cliff that has other plans, and Peter has to deal with the aftermath.It's not nearly as dramatic as it sounds.





	Netflix and Chill

Stiles ran. Trees flew past him as he leaped over roots, stones, branches, anything in his way. His paws hit the ground almost silently, light in his small form. 

He needed to get away. Just for a day, an afternoon, an hour, any amount of time that he could.

The preserve was still considered too dangerous to enter alone, but he honestly didn’t care. It didn’t matter to him that any number of creatures could be lurking inside. He had been dealing with the fuckers since Scott got bit in sophomore year and hadn’t had a chance to run since then. Well, unless it was for his life.

He just needed to run. 

So, he ran, and he ran, and he ran, until he was flying over the edge of a small cliff and tumbling down the other side.

He stopped at the bottom with a jolt, a cry and a resounding snap. He tried to stand up and quickly discovered where the snap originated from. His hind leg. 

He let out a whine and his eyes flared orange. He tried to stand again, putting as little pressure on his back leg as possible. Once standing, he realised he wouldn’t actually be able to get back up the cliff. 

For once in his life he wished he was a werewolf. Whatever was responsible for werecreatures—evolution, magic or some kind of god—had decided that foxes could skip out on the super healing because speed and extra-extra-heightened senses were more important. He certainly healed faster than an average human, but a broken bone would take at least a few days, rather than seconds. 

He swivelled his head, looking left to right, then went over ‘eeny meeny’ in his head. He turned right and started limping his way forwards, hoping the cliff would flatten out enough for him to walk it soon.  
~  
Peter was on patrol of the woods alone. Some would say he was mad to go alone, others knew he had no one to go with. Derek was in a bad mood and Stiles wasn’t answering his phone. No one else could tolerate him for long enough to finish the patrol.

Deep into the preserve, his nose and eyebrows scrunched up as he caught the scent of blood and pain. He crept forward silently, following the scent, and stopped just before he could slip down the small cliff. Peering over the edge, his eyes were drawn to the red fox staring up at him. He sniffed at the air, quickly confirming that the pained smell was definitely coming from the fox. Its injury was obvious by the leg being held carefully off the ground and, although Peter was certainly not an expert, the odd angle it bent in. 

He searched around for an easier way down to the fox’s level, but the cliff seemed to continue for as far as he could see. 

“I’m going to come down to you, little one, don’t be frightened,” he called. Carefully, he slid down the cliff, thankful that it wasn’t a straight drop as him jumping down would surely scare the creature off. 

Once at the bottom, he crouched down to the fox’s height. He held out a hand for the fox to sniff, the most unsure of what was proper etiquette he had ever been in his life. 

The fox stared at him blankly for a moment, before leaning in to nuzzle at his hand. 

“You’re very friendly,” he murmured, moving his hand to scratch its head affectionately. He was hoping that foxes were similar enough to cats and dogs. The fox leaned into the scratching, the scent of comfort seeping passed the pain. 

Hesitantly, he drained the pain away and paused in his scratching as the fox watched the black veins flow up his skin.

“Alright, little one, while I don’t usually trust Deaton, I think animals are one thing I can handle going to him for help with,” Peter said and carefully picked up the fox. 

He made sure to pay attention to any shift in scent, in case he accidentally hurt the creature. Its fear kicked up a little, but not an alarming amount, and it stayed calm in his arms.   
He made his way back up the small cliff, one hand holding the fox steady and the other keeping himself steady on the ground. Once at the top, it was a straightforward and uneventful walk.

~

“Peter, this is certainly a surprise,” Deaton said as soon as he looked up from where he had been reading.

“I think its leg is broken.” Peter was quick to ignore anything unimportant Deaton was saying.

“Yes, follow me.” Deaton seemed unaffected, as always, as he led Peter to a backroom. 

Once the fox was on the table Deaton began examining it.

“Where did you find him?”

The fox was male, useful information.

“He was in the preserve. Looked like he had taken a tumble down a small cliff,” he explained.

Deaton nodded and was silent for awhile as he looked over the fox. He muttered something under his breath and, although he could barely hear it, Peter was sure it was in another language. The fox’s eyes flared a bright orange in response to Deaton’s words.

“Just as I suspected,” Deaton said, most likely talking to himself.

“Do you know what he is?” Peter asked, staring at the fox curiously. 

“I’m afraid I don’t, most spells for finding out such a thing are far too elaborate. It just means I can’t call any proper services to look after him—I’ll have to take care of him myself.”

The fox let out a screech in response, something akin to an antagonistic witch being burnt alive. 

“Or maybe not.” Deaton frowned, options of what he could do floating about in his head.

“I can take care of him, if that’s a possibility,” Peter said without meaning to at all.

Deaton glanced between the two before speaking, “Well, if he lets you then I guess that would be okay.”

Peter held his hand out to the fox again and, gently, the fox bit at his fingertips.

“I think that’s a yes.”

~

Stiles soon had his leg fixed up to the best of Deaton’s abilities, and both him and Peter were happy to be leaving the vet/cryptic asshole and his mountain ash-filled building. Unfortunately, they would have to go back in a few days' time to check on his leg.

Stiles was trying to get comfy in Peter’s passenger seat, a difficult task with his leg, and he spent the whole ride shuffling into different positions. Before he knew it, Peter had parked and was carrying him out of the car.

As one of Peter’s neighbours left her house to do some gardening and gave them a strange look, they were both very thankful that Peter had moved out of his apartment and into a proper house. A lot less people to judge.

Once inside, Peter tossed his keys and wallet into the bowl, his phone onto the couch and a look over his shoulder at Stiles as he said, “I need to have a shower. You can explore but try not to break anything or yourself.” He disappeared with an affectionate grin that Stiles didn’t know Peter was capable of.

Stiles quickly scrambled over to Peter’s phone, using his nose to turn it on and type. He guessed the password on the second try, then searched the contacts for his dad. The contact name was a surprisingly boring ‘John Stilinski’, one of the only names that were so formal (though he was too stressed to get a proper look at the others). 

Painstakingly slowly, he typed out the message: ‘this is stiles broken leg but okay shifted safe with peter he doesnt know cover for me’. He deleted any evidence of the message from the phone after it was sent. 

It wasn’t exactly the first time that Stiles had gotten into a situation where he couldn’t shift back, but it always worried his dad to no end. 

He left the phone and looked around the room. It was a living room filled with warm colours and a surprising number of cushions. The TV looked large and expensive, but Stiles expected nothing less from Peter.

The kitchen was connected to the living room, no walls between, and he could see the pristine counter tops and appliances. Again, very expensive looking and very expected.

He limped around the rooms, looking through the books on Peter’s shelf, before heading down the hallway. 

None of the doors were open.

Rude.

He huffed and went back to the couch. Staring up at it from the ground wasn’t usually so daunting, but with a broken leg he had no idea how he could get up there. He huffed again, pouted as much as a fox could, and lied down on the floor in front of the couch.

He wasn’t sure how long he had been lying there, but he was dozing off to sleep by the time Peter finished in the shower and dressed.

“Can’t reach the couch, little one?” Peter asked, crouching down. 

Stiles raised his head and nodded in confirmation. Peter picked him up and sat down on the couch, laying the fox down on top of him. As Stiles shifted about to get comfortable yet again, Peter turned the TV on and switched to Netflix. The fox let out a bark as he went passed _'The Good Place'_ and he looked down at the now comfortable creature.

"You wanna watch this?" he asked with a raised eyebrow.

Stiles barked and nodded again.

"I hope you have good taste in shows," Peter muttered as he clicked to start playing.

~

_'The Good Place'_ was a brilliant show.

~

_"This is Stiles, I'm either passed out or running for my life-"_

Peter clicked out of the call before Stiles' voice could finish whatever it was he had pre-recorded. He let out a sigh and ran a hand over the fox's head, something he had been doing all day.

"What's that boy doing? He's as bad as Scott today," he muttered. He flicked through his contacts and settled on John Stilinski's number, debating for less than a second whether it was worth the hassle. He clicked call.

"Peter? What's wrong?" 

"Nothing, as far as I'm aware, just that I've been trying to contact your son all day and he hasn't responded," Peter explained. He felt the fox underneath his hand tense, but he barely took notice, continuing to run his hand through the fur.

"Oh, he didn't tell you?" the Sheriff asked, his voice rising in his surprise.

"Tell me what?" He tried to keep any strong emotions out of his voice.

"Stiles is visiting his grandmother for a few days. It's very possible that he left his phone behind, I guess. It was all a bit of a rush, we didn't really know he was going until a few days ago."

He felt the fox nuzzle closer onto his stomach.

"Right, well, thank you for telling me. Have a good day, Sheriff."

"You too."

The call ended, and the tension finally left Peter's shoulders as he melted into the couch. He slid to the side, lying down on the couch and pulling the fox up onto his chest. The animal let out a strange squeak, surprised at the sudden movement, but went with it easily. 

"That boy is going to be the death of me, I swear," Peter grumbled, "always getting himself into trouble." 

Stiles looked up at him, eyes wide, and he let out a soft noise. Neither of them were quite sure what the noise was supposed to mean, so Peter continued talking,

"I mean, it's not always his fault. Honestly, a lot of the time it's the rest of the pack's fault for not picking up when he calls. Because, yeah, Stiles runs off a lot after he works something out, but he usually tries to call Scott or Derek or someone to back him up, but if no one picks up then he's left to do it himself." He huffed and rubbed at his eyes with his free hand, the one not still petting the fox. "That was really loaded for a fox who may or may not understand me." 

Stiles had no idea how to react to everything that Peter had dumped on him, so he ran with his instincts. He sat up a little, leaned forward and nuzzled at Peter's cheek. The man smiled, leaning into the touch without question. Stiles dropped down a little, pressing flat against Peter with his nose tucked under the man's jaw, and began purring.

"Comfortable?" Peter teased, a fond smile on his face. Stiles didn't bother responding as he started to fall asleep. Peter closed his eyes and rested his head back down on a pillow before joining the fox in purring.

Despite the fact that Peter's bedroom was only a room away, they slept together on the couch.

~

Peter woke up to the fox standing on his chest and pawing at him. He blinked up at the creature blearily before mumbling, "What do you want?" The pawing wasn't urgent enough for him to be too concerned. 

The fox moved downwards, poked his stomach with his nose, then leapt off him to stand in the kitchen.

"Hungry, huh?" 

The fox nodded and barked softly. Peter stood up slowly, stretching, and joined the fox in his kitchen.

"Do you have a name? Because so far, I've just been referring to you as 'the fox' in my head," Peter said as he opened the fridge.

Stiles shook his head, you know, like a liar. 

"What do you eat?" 

He had to think for a moment before he walked up to the fridge and peered inside. After a few moments of looking and smelling, he placed his paws on the bottom of the fridge and pushed up to nose at the small variety of fruit inside. 

"Fruit salad for breakfast?" Peter grabbed the fruit, as well as two bowls and a cutting board, despite his question. Once he had washed and cut the fruit, he placed one bowl on the floor for the fox and kept the other, standing as he ate with a fork. 

"Is there any way for you to convey what you would prefer I call you?"

Stiles thought for a moment before shaking his head.

"Fox it is, then." 

Peter looked like he was about to speak again but _'Toxic'_ by Britney Spears started blasting from his phone.

"Of course, he would," Peter muttered before moving to answer the phone. "Hello?" 

"Hey, Petey, it's Erica! I need you to cover my shift for patrol of the preserve today," Erica chirped down the line.

"And what's so important that has you ditching your duties?" He waved the fork around as he spoke.

"Boyd, obviously." 

Erica could hear the eyeroll. 

"And what do I get out of this? I do have important things I could be doing." _Such as watching more of 'The Good Place' and cuddling up with a fox._

"I have pictures of Derek in a bunny costume—one that Stiles had managed to get him into during a previous Halloween costume search—that I'm sure will be useful for both entertainment and blackmail." 

Peter paused at that. It certainly sounded like a very good deal, but he had to ask, "You're wasting your blackmail on a single shift of patrol?" 

"No, I'm wasting two pictures of Derek on getting out of patrol for reservations at an expensive restaurant and amazing sex with my boyfriend. I have several photos from that same day where I managed to convince Stiles into a slutty red riding hood outfit. Those, I'm saving for when I need something important from you." 

"That's the little devil I know and love. Okay, I'll cover your shift, if not for the photos then to reward you for your brilliance."

"Wonderful, thanks Peter! I'll send you the photos once your shift is over. Have a great time!" With that, Erica hung up.

Peter put his phone down and picked his food back, smirk planted firmly on his face. Even if he would never be able to see those photos of Stiles, the idea of it would fuel a few fun nights with himself. 

He heard a snuffle come from near his feet. He glanced down to find the fox had finished his food and was now waiting patiently, his tail sweeping across the floor quickly. 

He raised an eyebrow. "You wanna patrol with me, little one?" 

The fox nodded and barked, which seemed to be his favourite way of saying yes. Peter nodded in reply and picked his bowl up from the floor, placing both bowls in the sink for later. 

"Alright, just let me get ready and we'll go."

~

Patrolling with the fox was enjoyable, more so than when he was by himself or with Derek. Every so often the creature would bark and run off, only to come back with a strange smelling flower.

"Do you know what all of these flowers are?" Peter asked, eight different flowers in hand.

The fox barked and nodded.

"Can you try to communicate what type of supernatural creature you are?" he asked a moment later.

The fox didn't reply. 

"How long do you think it'll take for your leg to heal up?" 

The fox paused at that. His head tilted from left to right as he thought, though Peter wasn't sure if he was thinking about the question or just how to communicate his answer. Finally, he drew a wonky '4' in the dirt. 

They started walking again and, after several minutes of wondering whether he should ask the question, Peter spoke up, "Will I see you again once you do heal?"

No response.

~

The rest of their second day together was spent hunting rabbits, making dinner, and finishing the second season of _'The Good Place'_. They both slept on Peter's bed that night.

~

Their third day together was pretty much the same, minus patrol as no one had decided to bribe Peter again. They had breakfast together, more fruit as well as a couple omelettes for Peter. Then they were on the couch, Stiles barking as Peter went passed _'Dirk Gently's Holistic Detective Agency'_. 

It was peaceful. Peter lying on the couch with the fox in his favourite place: on top of Peter's chest.

Their eyes met. Only for a brief moment. Just while they were waiting for the episode to change over to the next one. 

But it was long enough that Peter could notice what he hadn't cared to look at.

Bright, amber eyes.

The same eyes as,

"Stiles," he breathed out.

The fox froze.

"Fucking hell, really?" He suddenly sat up, Stiles yelping and falling into his lap as a result. "Stiles," he stated confidently, moving the fox's face with cupped hands to stare into his eyes.

Stiles' eyes were wide, concern and just a hint of fear drifting off of him.

Peter frowned. "Why don't you smell like a shifter?" 

Stiles shrugged, or at least he moved in a way that resembled a shrug.

"Why did your dad say you were at your grandmothers?" 

With a guilty smell rolling off of him, Stiles nosed at the phone resting on the coffee table.

"Right, well, I guess we can talk more about this when you've shifted back. For now, shall we get back to Dirk Gently?" 

Somehow, the fox looked like he couldn't be happier to do so. 

~

Hesitantly on Stiles' part, they slept on Peter's bed together again. 

~

"It seems like his leg has healed completely by now. Considering I don't know what type of creature he is, the best course of action would probably be to leave him at the edge of the preserve."

"Sounds good."

~

Peter, of course, didn't take Stiles to the preserve, but instead to his house. Thankfully, the Sheriff was at work.

Stiles nudged Peter into the living room before dashing upstairs. A few minutes later a very human looking Stiles walked back down the stairs, dressed in sweatpants and a soft looking shirt. 

"So," Stiles started, sitting down stiffly, "I guess you can ask your questions." 

"Why were you in the preserve?" Peter started out simple.

"I just kinda needed to get away for a bit, you know? I mean, before the whole shitstorm of supernatural things happened I used to run in the woods regularly, so." Stiles shrugged.

Peter nodded in understanding, he felt similar urges all the time. "Is your dad the only one who knows you're a fox shifter?"

"Yeah, I'd thought about telling Scott when I was younger but… but mum was always very adamant about keeping it a secret. I guess nowadays it's just easier to keep up the lie than tell him about it." 

Peter turned to face him better as he said, "I've never actually heard of a fox shifter before. How exactly does it differ to werewolves, other than the obvious?"

"Um, well, you might've noticed that we take longer to heal," he let out a weak laugh. "We have better senses, if you can believe, and we're generally faster too. We don't have a beta shift, just a full shift. We, uh, don't really have packs, either. Like alphas, betas and omegas aren't really a thing." 

"Huh," Peter muttered, sifting through the information and comparing it with what he already knew. He paused for a moment, debating whether he should ask the next question before settling confidently on a yes. 

"Can we keep watching shows and cuddling together?"

Before he could blink, Stiles was tackling him back onto the couch. His chin rested on top of the man's chest as he spoke, "There's this one show, _'Santa Clarita Diet'_ , and it's about a family dealing with their mum turning into a zombie so, you know, you should relate."

**Author's Note:**

> I've been waiting forever to post this, finally!!! 
> 
> Check me out on tumblr if you want, @stilesxeveryone for teen wolf fics and @fernfieldart for art!


End file.
